


where are you headed, little ghost boy?

by teenagefgt



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, F/M, M/M, big shot percy, oo la la, percy's annoying and nico is stubborn, shut up, so im happy with this, stripper nico, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenagefgt/pseuds/teenagefgt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Nico di Angelo used to prefer the term ‘dancer’ over ‘stripper’ but he realized a while back that he doesn't really care anyway.<br/>So, when slimy guys in his apartment building would ask him if he was that homo stripper they heard of, Nico doesn't deny it. Just shrugs."</p><p>Nico's eighteen and he isn't ready to be alone.<br/>Maybe Percy can help out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	where are you headed, little ghost boy?

"Bianca. Bianca, talk to me. Bianca, wake up."

You know that feeling you get where you're watching a movie and you catch a bit of foreshadowing and you frown and start to yell at the tv because seriously, _what the hell?_ Nico di Angelo felt like that when his mother died when he was ten years old. He knew – just fucking knew that misery was not done toying with him. Not even close.

“Bianca, please. Look at me.”

You know that feeling when there’s something cold at the back of your throat, dribbling it’s way along and it causes you to cringe because it feels like blood? Nico di Angelo gets a throat like this every time he gets sick. Doesn’t matter if it’s just a cold, or the flu, or something worse, it always feels like his throat is bleeding. Those times are nothing compared to his throat drip, drip, _dripping_ like this out of raw emotion.

“Bianca, don’t leave me.”

Nico di Angelo wasn’t ready to let go of the last of his family, his savior, his world.

“I’m not ready to be alone.”

Nico di Angelo watched his sister die on the night of his eighteenth birthday

 ~~~

It started with Nico in the hospital, to treat his fractured limbs and cringe worthy wounds that stung as though a million bees were sacrificing themselves all to blister those specific spots on his body. His head was light and his bones felt like jell-o and _what did I ever do to bees?_

“Nothing, dear.”

That nurse sounded exasperated and Nico blinked sluggishly, turning to face her. She was fiddling with something that was pumping life into his body, probably refilling it or something and her face was blank. Her fingers were nimble and her lips were pursed and her eyes glowed with a dull shine, like she once was so full of life and energy and she still is, she just doesn’t know what to do with it now.

“I’m Nico.” He introduced himself and wow, his eyelids are heavy.

She glanced at him, “I’m Silena.”

A slow smile spread across Nico’s face, “Hi, Silena. Do you know where my sister is?”

Silena pursed her pretty little lips and really looked at Nico this time, turning to face him completely. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, avoiding the IV tubes and her eyes were sad. Nico wanted to flinch away, but he didn’t.

“I’m sorry, honey.” That’s all she said. Nico waited for her to continue. She wouldn’t.

“Sorry for what?”

“Your sister didn’t make it.”

He guesses that some part of him already knew that, but he was so drugged and so tired and so upset that he couldn’t manage anything else but a small, “oh.”

 ~~~

Maybe it actually started two weeks later when Nico di Angelo went home to the apartment his sister and him had lived in together.

When the door creaked open and cold musky air hit him in the face, an iron hand clamped down on his heart and his eyes stung dry. (he ran out of tears)

Reality slipped away from him and he closed the door quietly behind him. His feet were heavy and he was talking to himself, he realizes. Small whispers. Small reassurances. Or maybe he’s talking to Bianca. Is she listening? Or maybe he’s going insane. Just a little.

Nico curled into himself on Bianca’s cold bed. It was still unmade from the morning she hastily woke up to go surprise Nico awake with confetti all over his bed and cake and loud singing. Her soft, obnoxious singing still rang in his ears and Nico tucked his knees to his chest and gripped his legs tightly.

He refused to cry again, refused to give into the ache in his chest, the dry heaves of his lungs, the burning behind his eyes.

 ~~~

Nico stays in bed as long as he can, which is probably a few days. The sun and the moon start to look the same and the old smell in the room just grows stronger and Nico doesn’t care anymore.

A thud echoed through the apartment, then another and another. _Thud, thud, thud_. Someone was knocking and Nico didn’t move.

 _Thud, thud, thud_.

“Nico?" It’s the landlord and there’s a too loud click and he’s letting himself in. Nico want’s to scream out so many curses, wants to yell until he leaves because, no, not right now. _Please_. Nico opens his eyes, and stares blankly at the ceiling, waiting for him to yell at him to pay the rent. Why else would the landlord be here? There’s no other reason. He doesn’t care.

There’s a creak – a long, unflattering creak and now an ugly face is looming over him. A face with uneven eyes and greasy hair and whiskers and a snotty nose. The old musky smell of the room is getting overrun by body odor now.

“You haven’t paid rent.”

Nico shrugs.

“You have three days.”

The smell of body odor leaves with his landlord and Nico saves him the trouble. He packs up and leaves.

 ~~~

When their mother died, she left them an insane amount of money. Bianca was in charge of it, not telling Nico and Nico never questioned why they could afford what they could. Now, that inheritance is passed to Nico because Nico’s the only one left.

The customers in the bank bustle around him, talking on their cellphones or talking to the employee’s. It’s pretty quiet for the amount of talking, like a hushed library and you can hear the footsteps resonate within the marble interior. Across the desk from Nico is a man with thick white hair and wrinkles by his eyes and crooked white teeth to match his hair. He keeps giving Nico these lingering pitiful looks with his deep brown eyes and Nico wants to scream and cry and rip his hair out.

It doesn’t take long for the man to hand him a new card, wish him luck and send him on his way.

Nico moves into a shabby apartment on the wrong side of town where there are a lot of girls wearing close to no clothes and guys with dread locks and gold chains and it reeks of after party, of vomit all the time. He’s okay with this, though. He didn’t want anything fancy and he wants something far away, where it’s cut off from all the civilization that he knew. He wanted something dark and tucked away.

He gets what he wants.

It’s a first for him.

Nico throws that card from the bank somewhere far into his apartment with a cry of frustration and stomps his foot against the floor. He wants nothing to do with that money. He doesn’t want anything to do with something that will only remind him that he’s really on his own now.

He leaves to find a job near by, and that card doesn’t turn up again for a long time.

(That doesn’t mean he forgot.)

 ~~~

“So, you’re eighteen?” the guy asks as he leads Nico through the building and Nico stammers _, yeah, yeah I am._

“You sure you want to start doing this? You’re young. Go to college, or something.”

Nico shakes his head, then shrugs. He tells the guy he just really needs the money and no other place in the neighborhood is hiring right now. They stop at the bar and the owner slips behind, pouring out some wine for the two of them. He wonders if this guy was at his audition, he can’t remember the face. If he’s the owner of the entire chain, probably not. If he’s the manager of just this one building, then probably. Nico doesn’t really care, anyway.

“And you’re experienced in dancing?”

Another shrug. “I guess, somewhat.”

Those words are hard to get out because Nico had started ballet when he was 5 and moved onto ballroom and Jazz when he was ten and Bianca wouldn’t let him drop it.

“It’s not what mom would’ve wanted. She knows how much you love to dance.”

So, he danced for their mother and never questioned how they could afford his lessons. Now, he knew.

“Well, you’ll learn more if you really need too.”

The guy pats him on the shoulder and something in his eyes tells Nico he knows a bit more than what’s being said. He brushes it off. Shakes his hand. He starts tomorrow.

Orientation lasts around a month or something. Nico wasn’t paying attention, wasn’t keeping track of time. He doesn’t care enough. He picks up the dance moves easily, because he already basically knows them. He takes how he’s supposed to talk to the customers easily, too. Then he’s given a costume of sorts and is pushed onto stage as a back up dancer. He finds himself okay with that.

He moves in smooth, sensual movements and his eyes are closed when he’s dancing. He’s just a back up dancer, it’s not like people will actually look at him. But he can already feel the eyes averting to him, wondering, mesmerized.

Then people start asking for him for personal lap dances, and some other dancers are glancing curiously in his direction. He finds himself not caring.

After six months, he’s now a waiter of sorts, being paid for lap dances more often. He’s getting tips slipped into his outfit as he takes an order of drinks and has to put his next table on hold.

He’s kind of grateful that the majority of the guys in here are attractive, but most gay guys are. They like to keep up with trends and stuff. Like to keep their skin clear. Nico doesn’t know. Whatever.

He just doesn’t know how the girls in the other strip clubs put up with the greasy perverts trying to stick their hands down their underwear while they’re giving them a lap dance. No one in Nico’s club has ever tried that. Not on him, at least. Not yet.

After seven months, Nico’s pinned to the wall by one of his co-workers. (Lars? Lenny? Lance? Leo. His name is Leo. They call him Firestarter on stage.) The guy is his age but he’s been at this so much longer than Nico. He’s been hopeless and alone so much longer.

Brown eyes are staring him down, through curly brown bangs that look overly soft and Nico’s just glad this is a familiar face.

So, yeah, Nico has sex with Leo, and he’s okay with that because it’s just sex and he doesn’t even feel like this is his body anymore.

Leo keeps telling him how beautiful he is.

How is he beautiful without a body?

(Just a roaming spirit)

 ~~~

Nico di Angelo used to prefer the term ‘dancer’ over ‘stripper’ but he realized a while back that he doesn’t really care anyway.

So, when slimy guys in his apartment building would ask him if he was that homo stripper they heard of, Nico doesn’t deny it. Just shrugs. _(Your dad sure as hell likes me.)_

It’s been a year since he took the job, over a year since Bianca’s death and Nico throws himself into his dancing to try to forget. A year isn’t enough, it seems. He’s still drowning in the reality of being alone, suffocating without his sister. Maybe he’s not dancing enough.

Boss moved him to center stage and bumped the other stripper, whats-his-face, back to a waiter full time. It’s not that Nico’s not a waiter anymore, he won’t be on stage all the time. Someone has to take drink orders. But anyway, Nico was the main attraction, so why wouldn’t he be on center stage? He got a raise out of it, so he doesn’t mind.

He has yet to find something he cares about.

Boss offers him an even higher pay to start having sex with the customers if they asked.

Nico just shrugs.

(homo whore)

 ~~~

He finds something he cares for 2 years after Bianca’s death, and it’s surprisingly not that Leo is in the hospital because a guy got too drunk and too pissed off in the champagne rooms upstairs. Leo will make it, and Nico will pay for his hospital bills. He should probably find that card soon.

No, Nico finds out he cares for sea green eyes (that aren’t really green because they change from blue to green to grey to turquoise to silvery-green) and they sparkle with excitement and promises and adventures.

He finds out he cares for the way hips sway as he walks, like he’s ready to jump on a table and start dancing and singing. Like he has all the confidence in the world. Like he knows everyone loves him.

He finds out he cares for stubble the same colour as messy brown hair, sun bleached from being outside too much and swept back, as if there was always wind to hold it there.

As he’s walking by the table with the guy with green eyes, he over hears one of the friends saying:

“You’re never going to get another chance to appreciate guys now that you’re marrying Annabeth, man..”

The voice continued but Nico was talking and the music was loud so oh well. Green eyes is getting married. He isn’t his problem.

What Nico doesn’t know is that yes, Green eyes is going to be his problem. He’s going to be a problem that gets stuck in his side like a dagger, gleaming as Nico stumbles around in his own quickening darkness, hand pressed to the wound trying to stop the oozing blood and sucking him into a blissful dream.

A stop at Green eyes’ table, a quick order of drinks and Nico can feel the eyes following him as he walks away. So, naturally, he adds a sway to his hips, and smirks to himself.

Someone’s eying him down from back stage, and he sighs. He hands off his orders to some other waiter, and they take his section.

When Nico is on stage, he makes very obvious eye contact with Green eyes. Even if he would look away, Green eyes wouldn’t. He could feel the tingles running along his bones that Green eyes’ gaze is causing and when he looked over again, a blonde friend was telling him something. Green eyes was nodding, his eyes still pinning Nico down. They gestured for a waiter, and asked something of him. The waiter nodded and sauntered off. Nico didn’t really care where he went.

When Nico’s act finished, and he went back stage, the waiter was waiting for him.

“Table six, the one with the green eyes.” That’s all that was needed to be said, and Nico took off. He suppressed a smirk and swayed his hips. He could feel his heart pumping his blood harshly through his veins.

Green eyes sized him up as he approached, and lifted his glass to his lips. His adams apple bobbed as he took a sip and Nico did smirk for .4 seconds. He stopped beside his chair, ran his finger tips along Green eyes’ collarbone and leaned down to place his lips on the shell of his ear:

“You called?” he whispered, low and raspy and Green eyes squirmed under him. Nico leant back and held out his hand. Green eyes took it gingerly and Nico gripped it tightly, and led them away, off to the stairs leading to the champagne rooms.

(Nico talks to himself a lot. He belittles himself, like he were a disappointed father and an upset son stuck in the same body. Leo once asked if he was okay. He replied with, he was talking to his sister. She would never belittle him, so he doesn’t know where that came from. Leo knows she’s dead.

His skin is terrifyingly pale. A sleek expanse of alabaster, as smooth as porcelain. It’s so pale that anyone can see the blue veins running just below the surface, the warm company to all his problems and emotions he buried just below the surface, too.

To everyone who witnesses him dance, he’s like an interesting specimen. Barely seen, never touched.

He’s known as Ghost Boy. Ghost. Whatever. That’s what he looks like.

It’s his stripper name. This is the first time anyone has asked for him personally because they know he can’t be touched, won’t be touched. The last person to touch him was Leo and that was a year and a half ago.)

Green eyes searches his face carefully, when they’re alone and Ghost boy frowns and squirms, shifting from foot to foot.

“What’s your name, Ghost boy?”

That voice sends chills down Nico’s spine and he swallows hard. It rushed over his senses like a wave crashing against the shore. He looks at Green eyes and a smirk is dancing in his obsidian eyes:

“You just said it.” His tone is sarcastic.

Green eyes smiles at him, “Your real name.”

A thoughtful expression takes over Nico’s face and he sits on the couch. Green eyes sits beside him, a gap between their legs. He’s something different. Nico glances at him through the corner of his eyes, sees his staring and his name slips past his lips;

“Nico.”

Green eyes chews on his bottom lip for a second, masking a smile, “I’m Percy.”

“Having a bachelors party, Percy?” and Nico likes the way his name fits on his tongue, tastes in his mouth. Percy nods.

“Why here?”

He shrugs, “I’m bisexual. My best man, Jason, planned it. He says I’ll never get a chance to ‘embrace my gay’ now that I’m marrying a girl.” He made quotation marks in the air with fingers when he said, ‘embrace my gay’. Nico snorted a laugh.

“Why do you have my up here?” he tilted his head.

“You interest me.”

A raised eyebrow, a question.

“Your dance moves don’t belong in a strip club.”

And Nico threw his head back and laughed loudly at this. Percy didn’t seem phased, didn’t move his eyes.

“Where do I belong then? I’m a nobody.” He looked back at Percy, still laughing a bit under his breath, “Who even are you?”

“Jackson.”

“No way are you a Jackson.” It was said with a scoff.

“Hard to believe, right?” Percy laughed, “But yup, my dad died a while back, leaving me the company.”

“You’re _that_ Jackson, then? Of Jackson Enterprises?”

Percy blinked, like he couldn’t comprehend why this was so shocking, and he nodded.

Nico spluttered, “You’re the richest man in the United States? Why are you here?”

With a grin, he replied, “I am still a man.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No sane man would hate a strip club of their taste.” Percy relaxed the couch, twined his fingers together behind his neck.

“Did you bring me up here just to talk?”

Percy hummed a little, hummed in agreement, and said, “And to make you an offer.”

Obsidian eyes narrowed suspiciously and Nico asked, “What kind of offer?”

“I can give you a way out.”

Nico scowled at that, “Whoever said I needed a way out?” he didn’t mean to sound that harsh. But, he did. Oh well.

“No one, but you definitely do not belong here.”

Percy Jackson was starting to annoy him. The last thing he needed was pity and help that he didn’t deserve from a (gorgeous) stranger.

“I belong where ever I choose, thanks.” With that statement said, Nico stood up and walked over to the door. He opened it and raised an eyebrow expectantly at Percy.

A reluctant sigh, and footsteps echoing down an empty hall and Nico was alone, a throbbing pain in his chest. He pressed his back to the closed door and sunk to the floor.

 ~~~

So, yeah, now Nico sees green eyes in everyone he looks at, and his gut twists uncomfortably. He falls back into routine: wake up. Breathe. Eat. Breathe. Work. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Sometimes (all the time) he finds he forgets to breathe if he stops reminding himself too.

But really, he wouldn’t care if his breaths did seize one day.

The world is a beautiful place, and he’s never really been afraid to die in the first place.

A couple days later, it’s late and Nico’s talking to the bartender, having a glass of wine after his shift ends, delaying the walk home. He glances around all the time, like he’s afraid of an ambush of sorts, uneasy of being stared at. Even after close to 3 years of eyes that never leave him.

That’s when he sees Percy Jackson walking into the building, smiling at someone walking by and taking off his coat.

“Oh god,” Nico groans, throwing his head back in annoyance, “What is he doing here?”

The bartender looks at him funny and pours a bit more wine into his glass, “Who?”

But Nico isn’t paying attention to him anymore. He downed his drink in one gulp, and stalked off, sticking close to the shadows and grumbling about something.

He glances over his shoulder and sees the bartender pointing Percy Jackson in his direction. He frowns and continues on his way backstage. Percy won’t be allowed back there, he hopes.

He was wrong.

Nico was shirtless, changing into normal clothes when Percy plopped into a spare chair. He grinned his stupid lopsided grin at him when Nico scowled and waited for him to get dressed.

“Only strippers are allowed back here.” Nico stated, running a hand through his hair.

“Throw my name out anywhere, and you’ll be allowed into anything.” Percy was smirking smugly.

With a huff of annoyance, Nico shoved his hands into his pockets and faced the older guy. He narrowed his eyes at him and started chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out what to say to Percy. Leave me the fuck alone? I don’t want your help?

“What do you want from me?”

“Well, I think you’d look spectacular on Broadway. Maybe ballet.”

Nico choked on his tongue and started to laugh. Loud, hysterical laughing that hurt his stomach and clenched down on his lungs with iron fists. He had to steady himself by leaning on a chair and he was well aware of the fact that he probably seems insane, _thank you very much._

When he caught his breath, Percy calmly continued, “I have this friend, Piper, whose directing – “

But Nico cut him off with a “why do you keep bothering me? Why can’t you just leave me to live my life?”

Percy pursed his lips and his eyes flashed defiantly, “This is no life to lead, not for someone like you – “

Again, Nico cut him off, “Someone like me? What’s that supposed to mean? I’m working here because I chose too. I needed something to do. I don’t even need to work? I have enough money, for gods sake. So why do you think it’s fine to just assume and play god in some strangers life?”

Green eyes darkened to a green-tinted grey, and the gaze was intense. Nico looked anywhere but those eyes, digging his hands into his hair and grumbling angrily. Then, Percy stood up and Nico took a step back, blinking fast. He realized that Percy was a few inches taller than him. The perfect height for Nico to be able to tuck his head under Percy’s chin and fit against his chest and –

Percy’s getting married.

Those eyes glazed over as they stared down Nico and Nico was so tempted to turn and run, wondering if Percy would even notice. He seemed far to into his own world right now.

Then Percy let out a small whisper, probably not intended to leave his lips, but they did.

_You’re more beautiful than anyone I’ve ever seen._

Nico wasn’t sure if he was okay with hearing this or not. He flushed a deep red, though, and shifted his weight on his feet, “How do you think I bring in the crowd?” he sounded as cocky and sarcastic as you could get with looking this awkward.

Percy blinked a couple times, bringing his eyes back into focus, and looked away from Nico, giving him a moment to breathe. Percy swore to himself and then turned back to Nico, eyes sharpening on him.

“You’re here to dance, Ghost boy. Not to strip. I can see that much and I’m pretty oblivious too, well, everything.”

Nico blinked blankly at him.

Then he side stepped Percy and left.

When Percy did nothing to stop him, he couldn’t help the sharp pain in his chest.

 ~~~

Percy Jackson didn’t bother Nico for a while after that encounter. Nico found himself looking into the crowd every night, hoping for that familiar gaze, but Percy is an important, married man. He probably gave up on Nico at this point.

It was a week later when a tanned girl with messy brown hair with feathers braided into it and lively brown eyes walked into the club. She stripped her jacket, kicked her shoes free of snow and Percy Jackson was right behind her. The first thing he did was put a hand on the girls lower back and point straight at Nico, who was center stage.

Nico almost fell off the stage.

He watched them get a table, nearly slipped on a five dollar bill and huffed out a curse. Some people were looking at him funny and his shoulders slouched as he hurried off the stage. His boss was probably going to yell at him. He really doesn’t care.

“Jesus Christ, Percy.” Nico mumbled as he rubbed his hands over his face, flopping into a chair.

“What’re you doing, Angelo?” Someone shouted at him, “You’re on stage.”

Nico waved off whats-his-face and shouted, “I really don’t care.”

“You should.”

“But I don’t” he threw his head back, staring at the ceiling and refused to move until Percy and his friend left. Or maybe he’d be able to get dressed and sneak out the back. Or maybe he’d wither away in this chair, or die of boredom.

A few minutes of muffled music and boredom, and someone is putting a hand to his shoulder, telling him table 11 wanted to see him. Nico groaned out a ‘fine’ and pulled himself out of his chair. His bones feel heavy and he really does not like Percy Jackson right now.

He pulled up a chair opposite of Percy and crossed his leg over, resting his ankle on his knee.

“You called?” he bit out, and it sounded so different from the first time he said that.

When Percy spread his hands out on the table and leaned forward, Nico realized he wasn’t wearing a ring yet. Normally bachelor parties happen just a few days before the wedding, right? He should be married.

“Listen to  me, Nico. Please.” Percy pleaded and Nico’s scowl deepened.

“You. You’re a king when you’re dancing. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Do something more. If you have the money, do something better with it.”

All Nico wanted to do was slam his hands down on the table and scream at Percy that he didn’t deserve more, he doesn’t want more. That he’s been drowning so deep in his own depression that he doesn’t think he can ever do more. That his depression weighs on his bones, eats at his muscles, numbs his limbs. That he sometimes calls into work saying he’ll be late because he knows he’s going to take an extra bit of time to find the motivation to get moving. That he soaks himself in the shower for longer than necessary to burn his skin, to remind himself that he can feel, that he is real.

He looked at Percy, dropped his scowl and sighed, “I’m tired of this, Percy.” His voice came out completely exhausted. He hates himself for that.

“Then change it.”

“No, I’m tired of you bothering me. Why can’t you just let me live this goddamn life? It’s all I can manage.”

From beside Percy, the girl spoke up, “Percy talks about you a lot to me, you know.” She said, with a gentle smile, “I can help you manage more. I can help you with a lot. I’m not just a director. I can be a friend, too.”

She must be Piper, from the Broadway stuff Percy was rambling about before.

Then, a thought hit Nico and he looked back at Percy with narrowed eyes, “Shouldn’t you be busy with wedding plans? Or your wife? Or your honeymoon, or something? Not with me?”

Percy swallowed hard, his eyes steeling over and Piper looked at him carefully. He fell silent, staring at Nico intently, as if he was trying to figure out what to say to him.

At first, he didn’t say anything, just calmly reached into his pocket and dug out an elaborate diamond and gold ring. He threw it on the table and stared at it, expressionless as it clinked against the table top. It took Nico a moment to realize it was an engagement ring.

“She said if I left that house to come here, that that was it. She wouldn’t marry me. I realized that she didn’t trust me enough, she didn’t like how I was trying to help you. I realized I didn’t want to marry someone like that anyway. So I left. She threw the ring at me through the window. I still love her, but I don’t regret it. Not yet.”

Instantly, Nico slammed his hands down on the table and pushed his chair back roughly. People started to glance over, worried and weirded out. Nico’s cheeks were tinted red and  he was stuttering wordlessly.

Eventually, he spat out, “Your marriage was cancelled, because – “ he choked on a hysterical laugh, “ – Because of me? No. No.”

Percy rolled his eyes and leaned back into his chair. He sighed, completely defeated, but he won’t give up. Piper was fiddling awkwardly with her finger nails, picking off skin and nail polish.

“You’re joining Piper’s Broadway production. No arguing.” Percy stood up then, grabbed Nico’s hand and started to drag him out.  Nico was still spluttering wordlessly and Piper was right behind him and then he was being pushed into a large car. _Wait, what?_

Percy climbed in after him, and Piper sat in the passenger seat, playing with the radio. Stupid songs that Nico has heard fifty times over flashed through his ears:

_-like a wrecking ball, I never hit so_

_-wake me up when_

_-friends with the monster that’s_

_-sweet dreams are made of_

“Nico?”

With a shake of his head, Nico looked at Percy, completely confused. He gave up on trying to deny Percy anything. He doesn’t think he can anymore. Either he ran out of the energy or he just can’t say no to those eyes. Those green, green eyes.

“Why me, Percy?”

Percy shrugged.

 ~~~

It’s been 5 months and Nico has a small role in Piper’s production.

He’s wearing a black leotard that defines the toned muscles he gained from dancing and dark grey tights hug his legs. His hair is styled up into a loose quiff, keeping his bangs out of his dark eyes and make up is brushed onto his face delicately, defining his already prominent cheekbones just that much more, and adding a smoky look to his eyes.

This is the first rehearsal they’re having in their costumes, because it’s a week before premiere day and Piper want’s to know how it looks.

Right before Nico glides in for one of his scenes, the doors in the back of the theatre slam shut and Nico is the only one jumping and glancing over. Percy is wandering down the aisles, and he sits in the front row, right beside Piper. Then, Nico hears his cue and he glides on and bows gracefully, saying his lines and he’s smirking and his timed laugh feels natural because his friend on stage with him, Hazel, wiggles her eyebrows at him.

He glances over, catches Percy’s gaze and Percy winks at him, smiling. Nico can feel his face reddening and he stutters over his words. Piper smacks Percy on the arm, “ _what did you do?”_

Percy looks surprised, and Piper tells them to start again from Nico’s entrance. Nico groans and stomps off stage. Behind him, Hazel is laughing at him and walking back over to her starting point.

This time, he doesn’t glance at Percy and he can feel Percy’s pride for him radiating off him, filling up the theatre. He hopes he won’t choke during the premiere. He’d hate to let Percy down.

His feet trail on the floor as he dances around with his partner, hands relaxed and catching her when needed. His movements are smooth and gentle and he realizes this is what he was born to do. Percy was right. _What the hell?_

As he leaves the stage in a dramatic haste, his partner calling after him desperately because of the lines they were assigned, he sees Percy standing up from his chair from the corner of his eyes. Then he’s backstage and running into his friend and his friend is patting him on the back, _you’re doing great._

“He is, isn’t he?”

Nico blushes and turns to face Percy.

“I hate you.” He says, because they’ve become really good friends in the past five months so Nico’s allowed to say that.

There’s a lopsided grin on Percy’s lips and Nico finds himself glancing down at it and Percy totally saw that, “Nah, you don’t.”

“Just a bit.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Nope.”

Nico’s about to argue, but he doesn’t get a chance, because Percy’s suddenly kissing him, quick but lingering, on the lips, and he’s blinking fast. The height difference drives him insane, because when Percy is standing this close, he has to tilt his head back a bit to look into his eyes.

Words stutter their way past Nico’s lips, “P-Perce. I – uh. S-should probably-“ his voice fails him suddenly. Percy just kissed him.

Oh.

“I’m so proud of you, Nico.”

 ~~~

It’s been a year and some and Nico’s rolling off his bed and face planting on the floor with a groan.

He looks up and his bleary eyes work out the time on the alarm, around 1 pm. Nico releases another groan, out of disappointment. He hates feeling like he slept the day away.

There’s a crash somewhere in his apartment and he doesn’t even flinch. He has a feeling he knows who it is, so it doesn’t bother him much. What does bother him is how cold the floor is, but he doesn’t want to move.

A crack as his door is thrown open and slams into the wall, and someone’s sitting on his back. The smell of fire and pastries reaches his nose and he knows that that person is holding something along the lines of a birthday cake. He wiggles his butt a little and turns, looking at the guy curiously.

The second he caught Percy’s eye, Percy grinned and popped this little tube in his hand. Confetti flew everywhere and sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the window.

A sharp pain ran along his nerves and stabbed at his head, because this was major déjà vu. This is what happened when Bianca woke him up on his birthday 4 years back. This is what happened the morning of the day she died.

“You’re old.” Percy states as he slips off Nico to allow Nico to sit up. Percy pulled out another party popper and sprayed confetti all over Nico, and there’s a lot of colour filling up his line of vision suddenly.

“I’m 22.” Nico states with a blank look at his best friend.

“Yeah. Old.”

Nico scoffs, “Says you.” and leans over to blow out the candles on his blue birthday cake that Percy made for him. The cake looks absolutely fresh. That’s what he must have been doing in Nico’s apartment before Nico even woke up. Nico kind of regrets giving him a spare key to his apartment.

With a grin at Nico, Percy scoops up some blue icing and licks it off his finger, “What’d you wish for?”

 _That’s an easy one_ , Nico thinks as he stares at Percy. He doesn’t think to tell Percy what his wish actually is, but when Percy raises an eyebrow at him, he finds the thought tumbling past his lips.

“Maybe for you to be mine.” He says quietly, and glances down at Percy’s lips.

The sudden spark in Percy’s eyes tells Nico he said the right thing.

“I can do that.”

Percy wraps his fingers across the back of Nico’s neck and pulls him forward, and they may have kissed once before but this was a _kiss_. This is what Nico has been wanting to do forever. This is slow and deep and Percy licks his bottom lip, and Nico parts his lips, and he tastes like blue icing and coffee and _Percy_.

( _His birthday isn’t haunted with memories of blood and fire and laboured breathes and screams and hospitals anymore_.)


End file.
